Never Tickle A Sleeping Dragon
by DragonArtemis
Summary: In which a secret has been kept for a thousand years, Death Eaters are being recruited, more mysteries lurk around Hogwarts, and Dragons fly again. Get ready for adventure, magic, darkness, mystery, and new characters! First fic, but don't doubt it! Alive!Dumbledore, Alive!Snape. DM/OC PP/BZ
1. The Prophecy of the Serpent

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot and a few characters. The rest is JKR's. I had to update this chapter because its original copy didn't fit with the rest of the story as I have it planned out.**

Deep in the Hall of Prophecy laid one smooth, clear orb, very similar to others on the shelf next to it. What was different about this one, what made it so essential for upcoming events, was that it held a secret that had resided in myth and legend for the past one thousand years. What was about to become exposed was the greatest secret in the history of Hogwarts and a magical secret that would stun the wizarding world. This is the Prophecy of the Serpent:

With the secret lays the dormant crown,

Awakened only by ancient sound.

The heart of Hogwarts will be free again

At her cousin's mortal end.

The heir of the serpent is soon returning

To be joined by the ice-prince plagued by burning.

The dark flower takes on the reigns of death

Along with those of soulful breath.

Magic is the stake, heart, and key

To unlocking its own destiny.

Gold needs to trust its silver friends

For wizard-kind to escape its end.

Voldemort had been defeated, yet another evil is about to take up the reins of death and magic. Everything is about to change.


	2. Unbound and Awake

**Disclaimer!**

I own nothing. Well, except for the plot, some spells, a few locations, and the new characters. If it isn't familiar, it's probably mine.

I've been wanting to write this for a few years now and finally have the time and, hopefully, the skill to pull it off. Thanks to my magnificent beta, SecretAdmirer, and let the journey begin!

So… I had uploaded this chapter earlier but it wasn't the right version. -.- This is the right one. Sorry for that…

Hogwarts at night was beautiful. The grey stone glowed faintly in the light of the torches, the windows shone brightly into the night from the fires lit within, the Black Lake glistened in the moonlight.

Not this night. This night, Hogwarts was scary. Lightning flashed overhead, very few windows were lit and the ones that were all in the same tower, the wind whistled around stone corners, trees whipped about in the icy rain, and the water poured from the slick roofs. Albus Dumbledore stood at one of the few lit windows, his silver robes reflecting the faint light from the candle he held. He peered out into the storm, finding it appropriate for the task to be completed that night.

"Ahh…" he mused.

"It is time."

He turned around to face the others in the room. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick all sat at the large, wooden table behind him. They all had varying looks of apprehension on their faces. Professor Sprout wiggled anxiously in her seat.

"Albus," she asked, "Do you really think that this is a good idea?"

McGonagall answered instead, peering through her small spectacles. "Really, Pomona, I don't think that we have much of a choice. We were told that this might happen when we took these positions."

Indeed, when they had been chosen to be Head of House, they had received an enchanted letter, dated from when Hogwarts was first created. This letter had been charmed to appear before the Heads of their time, warning them about what had to be done this night, giving them a brief glimpse at the secret lurking in the depths of Hogwarts. If they did not complete this task, severe consequences would arise.

Snape frowned and adjusted his sleeves for the second time that night. "If we do not do this, disaster shall surely befall Hogwarts. This must be done."

Flitwick tittered, "Severus, you are saying that simply because you alone have nothing to fear from it!"

The potion's professor sneered at the small teacher. "I cannot say that I regret this action, but surely you understand the magnitude of what is about to happen."

McGonagall nodded. "Filius, we have a duty to Hogwarts. We've gathered all of the items necessary and the time has come!"

"The time has indeed come, Minerva," said Dumbledore, walking towards the door to the classroom. "We must get to the cavern before the clock strikes midnight."

The rest of the teachers mumbled and stood up from the table, filing out into the hall. The school was empty, besides the professors who had been gathered for this night. The students would arrive in four days for the start of the school year and fill Hogwarts with noise and life again. Tonight, the school was dark and brooding. The storm raged outside and the cold from the wind seeped through the old stone. At this time, even the portraits were fast asleep, lords and ladies slumped over in their frames. The nearest stirred slightly as Dumbledore cast a _lumos_ to dispel some of the inky gloom.

"Surely you know the way, Albus?" squeaked Flitwick.

Dumbledore nodded sagely and turned left, heading towards the stairs.

"Yes, thanks to Harry Potter."

They arrived in the girl's restroom on the third floor, facing the round sinks. The pale marble in the room reflected the flashes of lightning and the floor was cold. McGonagall peered at the sink in front of them with sharp eyes.

"I know that Mr. Potter opened this with parseltongue, yet none of us have this ability," she noted.

Dumbledore placed his hands in his sleeves, assuming the image of patience. "It will open, Minerva. On this night, the language of snakes is not needed to open it. Give it time."

The transfiguration professor harrumphed and crossed her arms.

Dumbledore was right, as was proven when the sinks began to spread out by themselves, gliding over the tile floor. At the edge nearest them, the sink sank into the ground to be covered by an iron grate. Sprout looked over the edge and into the inky darkness below.

"We don't have to slide down there, do we?"

Flitwick waved his wand in a slow circle in the air in front of him, forming a platform of opaque air. When he finished, he turned to his colleagues.

"We definitely shall not!" he squeaked.

A few moments later found the teachers standing in the Chamber of Secrets, facing the huge sculpture of Salazar Slytherin. The cold water swished around their ankles as if curious about their presence and the faint light poured down, bathing all surfaces in a green glow. McGonagall's nostrils flared slightly at the smell of water and stale air and she grumbled as her robes tangled around her feet in the water. Dumbledore looked at Snape.

"Severus, if you will?"

Snape nodded and strode forwards until he was at the edge of the underwater ledge. He reached into his heavy black robes and pulled out a dirty, tarnished locket. He held it out as if to the perusal of the sculpture and said, "Draco."

There was a heavy moment of silence in which the sound of rushing water could be heard echoing through the empty pipes. Then, the sound of grinding stone began as the Slytherin's mouth opened. Then the water at their feet raised and froze into icy stairs leading straight into the gaping tunnel. The teachers reluctantly walked in after each casting a _Lumos_.

Flitwick shuddered as he stepped into the mouth, saying, "Isn't this where the Basilisk was being held?"

Dumbledore nodded and gathered his robes in one hand before descending down the stone steps that led far underneath the school. "Yes, Filius. But Mr. Potter has taken care of that particular challenge for us, even as he did not know what it was guarding. Tom did not know of the Basilisk's true purpose either, thankfully."

McGonagall asked, "The monster of the Chamber of Secrets was a guard? A protection?"

"Yes. The chamber was created to give Salazar Slytherin a way to come down here without anyone following him. Tom merely had thought of it as a monster he could use, not having the information to know that it was guarding something much more dangerous."

"Serpents guarding serpents," Flitwick mused. "How appropriate."

They traveled down hundreds of slimy stairs, descending deep into the earth. Water dripped down the walls and mushrooms, which Sprout stopped many times to investigate, adorned the craggy walls. A few times, Dumbledore paused to unravel intricate webs of ancient enchantments that were designed to prevent unskilled wizards from progressing further. After about thirty minutes, the professors came upon the second door, an obsidian slab that obstructed their way. Dumbledore turned to Sprout this time.

"Pomona?"

She tightened her hatstrings nervously and stepped up to the door, pulling a small golden cup out of her pocket.

"Dormiens," she said.

The slab crumbled into an ashy heap that the Heads stepped over as they went deeper still. The third door was bronze. Flitwick toddled forward without prompting from Dumbledore and pulled out a tiara from his pocket.

"Nunquam!" He squeaked into the chilly air.

The bronze slab cracked into fragments and the teachers pushed on, descending even deeper. The third door was gold, glowing in the light from their spells. McGonagall stepped forward and pulled a shining sword encrusted with rubies from a scabbard at her hip, previously hidden by her robes.

"Titillandus," barked the head of Gryffindor. This time, the slab melted into a pool of hot metal that then solidified a moment later. They traveled for another half hour until they came to a large, crystal door at the end of a narrow tunnel. It was inscribed with a calligraphy 'S' and surrounded by carved vines entwined with serpents. This time, Dumbledore stepped forward alone and held out his hands, saying,

"_Reditus colligi quatuor vetus promissi, ad portam sopitos dimittam draconis cubile cordis sunt._"

After the headmaster said the words, the crystal sublimed into a thick purple mist that never strayed from the doorway, but licked around the edges like reeds in the wind. The four teachers behind him looked on questioningly at the whirling fog.

"I am not completely confident about the benign nature of this fog, Albus," said McGonagall.

Dumbledore chuckled mysteriously. "Minerva, beyond this lies something much more dangerous than vapour. I suggest you keep your doubts until then."

The transfiguration professor arched a thin brow in response at her superior's back.

Snape sneered. "Onward?"

Flitwick rubbed his hands together nervously. "It seems we must."

Then they all stepped forwards and disappeared in the mists.

When they emerged on the other side, all stopped stock still. Their silence stretched on and all that could be heard was a rhythmic movement of air. They stood in an enormous chamber ten times the size of the Great Hall. Stalagmites the height of the astronomy tower reached up into the darkness to almost be met by even larger stalactites. The cavern was shaped like a funnel, with the largest and deepest part on the extreme opposite end from the entrance. In the deepest part was a flattened space littered with dried reptile skin and scales, and two massive, metal shackles. Deep gouges marred the flat face of the back wall. The tension in the air was heavy, bearing down on the teachers with an ancient presence.

Sprout shivered once, intensely. "Albus… She's not… She's not here!" she whimpered.

Snape's usually bland persona cracked and he seemed to be on the verge of a mild panic. "Albus, she can't have awakened yet. Are we late?!"

Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles. "There is no need to panic, there is nowhere she could have gone. The door was shut and that was the only way in."

McGonagall held her wand further out, illuminating more of the cavern. "Then, you're implying, she's in here."

"But where?" asked Flitwick.

The five adults peered around anxiously into the darkness. McGonagall looked to Dumbledore and said, "I can cast a _hominim revelio_ if that would help?" while raising her wand.

Dumbledore shook his head. "She's not human, Minerva. It would do no good. I shall do the honors. _magicae revelare" _he intoned solemnly. The spell was designed to reveal all magical signatures and traces, yet it worked too well. The entire cavern lit up with a blinding white light and all of the teachers shielded their eyes. After a moment the light faded away, sinking back into the dark stone.

Sprout gulped audibly. "Did you see where most of the light was coming from?"

Snape stiffened and raised his wand directly over his head. "I suggest that we do not move and use no sudden movements."

They all looked up at the huge pair of glowing, purple, slitted eyes that glared at them from the ceiling of the cave.

**What are you doing here?!**

A voice struck all of them in their minds, roaring in their perceived silence. It was huge, everywhere, and ageless with a slightly feminine tone underneath the outrage. Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall all collapsed under the burden of that voice, yet Snape and Dumbledore stayed standing. Snape because of his talented Occulumency skills and Dumbledore for his magical power. The voice rang out again.

**Nobody is supposed to be down here! Get out! Leave me alone!**

Dumbledore raised his hands in supplication. "Now, dear girl, we are here to release you."

The eyes narrowed.

**Don't call me girl. I lived centuries before you were even born. I know every stone in this school and everything that happens here. Albus… I know why you are here.**

Sprout and Flitwick whimpered and huddled together at the rage that saturated the voice.

**You were going to renew the bindings.**

Dumbledore coughed, "Now—"

**DON'T LIE TO ME, ALBUS! I HEARD YOU! I KNEW THE BOOKS YOU WERE READING! YOU WERE GOING TO CONDEMN ME TO ANOTHER MILLENNIA OF SLEEP AND SERVITUDE!**

The Headmaster paled and lapsed into silence. Snape frowned at the older man and looked back up at the violet glare.

"Hello, Arundhati." The black-haired man said.

The purple eyes widened as did those of his colleagues.

**You… know my name… Severus?**

Snape nodded. "Your grandfather left behind a journal that described you before your incarceration and entrusted it to the future Head of Slytherin one thousand years after you were bound."

**He was always so clever, my grandfather…**

Snape smirked. "Of course. He was Salazar Slytherin."

**And you uphold his values in his house.**

"I saw no other way, Arundhati. Slytherin was home for me and for many other pure-bloods. Created in the noble name of your grandfather, I would be foolish to tarnish the reputation."

The eyes widened.

**Spoken like a true serpent, Severus. I remember… you. The quiet one. Yes, Severus, I do remember you. You who treated Hogwarts like a true home, you stayed up late as a student to study and to find peace, you who struggled through love and sadness and survived until the end, even against my cousin. A true Slytherin.**

The potions teacher bowed. "I was taught from the best. Please come down so that we may see how big you are. Maybe then they would be more hesitant to re-bind you."

McGonagall spluttered for a moment while the girl considered.

"Severus," she protested, "you have no right to make those promises!"

**No, he was in his right as Head of Slytherin.**

Arundhati unraveled from between the stalactites and dropped gracefully to the ground of the cavern in front of the main Hogwarts staff.

The four teachers and the headmaster inspected the massive, black dragon in front of them. She huffed out a plume of smoke and settled to her stomach. Even laying down, she was huge. Her wingspan was the length of the Great Hall and her body trailed off past the sphere of light provided by the _lumos_. Her triangular head, adorned with obsidian spikes, arched over theirs and she peered at them.

**So… you all knew what Albus was planning? And, yet, you still stayed with the plan? Have you no trust or thought for yourselves?**

McGonagall stiffened. "Although the threat wasn't… specified, we knew that there was a chance that you could destroy the school. There will be children here in four days. We would have bound you to protect them."

The dragon stood up with a ripple of muscle and snarled, white teeth shining seven meters above them.

**You disgust me. Protect them? I have been around them for one thousand years, protecting them. Why do you think that this has been the safest place in the wizarding world besides Gringotts? My grandfather bound me to the school both in magic and conscious. I have been half-awake for one thousand years, doing what I could. Did you truly think that Hogwarts stood against my dear cousin by the strength of your magic and that of the founders? Dragon's magic protected you all.**

Dumbledore coughed. "Be that as it may, we still thought to protect the school and its residents from your possible rage. You cannot blame us for wishing to keep Hogwarts safe."

Arundhati seethed.

**You are not listening to me, Albus.**

The headmaster held out his hands in supplication. "I am trying, child."

**DON'T CALL ME CHILD!**

This time, the projected thought was directed only at Dumbledore. The old wizard nearly collapsed under the onslaught. Sprout and Flitwick whimpered and McGonagall rushed to help the Headmaster regain his feet. Snape merely stood and watched. Arundhati lowered her head to peer into Dumbledore's eyes and McGonagall flinched away from the spite in the dinner-plate sized eyes.

**I. Am. Hogwarts.**

The huge purple eyes glared at the faculty of the school under which she was imprisoned. The magnitude of what she said slowly sank in.

McGonagall drew herself up and asked, "You were Hogwarts?"

The black head nodded.

**Do you know how I was bound?**

Snape nodded. "Yes."

The others looked at him questioningly.

Flitwick squeaked, "Severus, I'm starting to think that you had more information than anyone here! Were you planning on telling us any of this that you knew?"

The potions professor shrugged. "I know this," he drawled, "because Salazar Slytherin left a manuscript for the future head of Slytherin. He loved his granddaughter and wanted her to be free. I am merely doing what any sane wizard would do."

This sparked an argument between the professors.

Arundhati considered the teachers as they bickered amongst themselves about the withholding of information. Clearly they did not know the whole story if there was this much confusion. She did not have time to deal with this amount of indecision and decided to handle it herself.

**The story can wait. I want to get out of this cavern, and none of you can stop me.**

Dumbledore raised his wand. "Sorry, dear girl, but you cannot get out of here in that form."

The dragon rolled her eyes.

**Fine. **

Arundhati's shape flowed and shrunk for a few moments, as if undecided about where it wanted to coalesce, until in her place stood a tall, painfully thin girl with tan skin, long dark hair, and violet eyes. She was wearing a long, black robe and her feet were bare. She sighed, "I have not put much energy into this form. It's so weak…"

Then she tried to take a step forwards and nearly collapsed. Strong arms caught her before she hit the rock floor. The dragon-girl looked up at Snape, who had caught her, and frowned. "I hate this. Being human is highly overrated," she announced.

Snape smirked and set her on her feet. "Welcome back, Arundhati Slytherin."


	3. A New Threat

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a few characters and the plot, at this point.**

**With this chapter posted, the story will pick up a bit. I'm really excited for this to get moving and within a week I won't be working anymore which gives me more time to write and post =D. Anywho, let's get to the story, shall we? Thanks, once again, to my awesome Beta TheSecretAdmirer.**

The sun rose the morning after with little ceremony. It was just another day, another drop in the expanse of time. Birds greeted the new day with their usual cheer, plants turned their leaves towards their giver of life, and the Giant Squid rose to the surface of the Black Lake to absorb the heat from the sun's rays. In the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, Arundhati greeted the sun with silence.

She stood in a pale blue hospital gown in front of the large window at the end of the Wing. She had awaited this moment for a millennia, cursing the never-ending darkness that was her world for the duration of her grandfather's curse. The dragon-girl had waited with growing impatience as time passed her by without any sight or sense of self. Her body had been made of stone and glass, hinges and torches for most of her life, and keeping track of the goings-on in Hogwarts had taken its toll on her real body, reducing it to skin and bones and tangled hair that took many spells to untangle. Even now, with nourishing charms at work, Arundhati was thin, all flat planes and sharp angles. Her mind was still sharp, however, and eyes bright and strong enough to catch their first glimpse of the sun's rays in one thousand years.

As the bright orb emerged over the Dark Forest, Arundhati felt the years of stillness wash away from her bones, felt her blood sing with heat. Dragons, although reptiles, could create and maintain their own heat as they chose, but her human body did not have as strong of an ability, and what little she may have had was gone to disuse. She had spent the night cold and half-delirious from changing forms. But the sun was rising, and she was there to see and feel it.

Her eyes drifted shut in the piercing glare and she lifted her arms to welcome the new age. She stood there for an hour before Madame Pomfrey walked in and gasped at seeing her patient out of bed. Aru smiled and turned, opening her eyes to look at the startled healer.

"I'm alright," she said. "I just wanted to see the sunrise."

The older witch's countenance immediately softened. "Oh, I'd imagine so, dear. What with being locked away for a thousand years in a cold, dark cave."

She waved her wand and the bed that Arundhati had previously inhabited made itself. Another wave, and a line of potions emerged from a cabinet near the door. Arundhati stifled a groan and walked over to her bed and sat down.

"More potions?" she inquired.

Pomfrey laughed quietly. "Yes, more potions. Then Severus and Minerva wish to see you in the Great Hall, if you feel up to it."

Aru grimaced and reached for the first bottle hovering above her head. "I hate being human."

"Well this is much more convenient than having to treat a dragon, so I've no complaints. Although I assume I must prepare for that eventuality if you are to attend school here this coming term," the plump witch retorted, collecting the other bottles out of the air.

Arundhati huffed and uncorked the potion in her hands, wincing at the sharp smell that arose from it.

"First potion of the new day," she announced bitterly before drinking it down.

And there's still more to go, she thought.

* * *

On that bright morning, the Ministry was a happy bustle. Voices filled the atrium as the workers flooed into the underground chamber. The happy bustle surrounded one particularly tall and dark man in purple robes. As he weaved his way through the throngs of Ministry employees, many greetings were exchanged, as well as best wishes for another day free from Voldemort. He wished them the same.

Kingsley finally made it into his office and sat down with a sigh, arranging his thick purple robes around himself as he prepared his desk for the day. As the Minister of Magic, he had many responsibilities, many of which were still left over from months prior when Harry Potter defeated The Dark Lord. The ex-auror laughed quietly. Who would have thought that the boy would succeed? The odds were against him and still he had triumphed. Not only that, but the Light had survived with only minor casualties, none from the Order.

He sobered with memories of the war. The Battle of Hogwarts was long and difficult, nearly tearing the castle down. That cursed seventh-year Malfoy brat had let the Death Eaters into the school through a cabinet in the Room of Requirement, and they then laid waste to Hogwarts and its wards, letting in more of the Dark wizards. Thankfully, most of the younger students had been able to escape through a hidden passage that led to Hogsmeade, and the older ones had stayed to fight. That was when he and his Aurors had arrived. Hogwarts was a mess by then, with fights happening in every hall of the school. The adults had cornered most of the more dangerous Death Eaters in the Great Hall. As the Order and the Death Eaters dueled in the Hall, Harry had been destroying the last Horcrux's and set out to defeat The Dark Lord himself. Harry had triumphed, even after his death and resurrection. The boy was a hero. Kingsley mused over all of the occurrences that Potter had been involved in. Perhaps, with Voldemort gone this year would be quieter.

A frantic knock on his door jolted him from his memories.

"Yes, enter," he rumbled, pulling a sheaf of reports from his Inbox.

He was shocked to see a dark-robed man step into his office. He was tall with curly brown hair and worried brown eyes.

"Mr Wells! What brings you here?" Kingsley asked while leaning back in his chair.

The Unspeakable tried to catch his breath and failed. The Minister took in his disheveled robes and flushed face. Something serious must have happened in the department of Mysteries if they sent a person instead of a memo.

Wells took a deep breath and said, "The Keeper wanted to speak to you in the Hall of Prophecy immediately, sir!"

Kingsley tried to hide his shock as he shoved his chair back and strode after the Unspeakable out of his office. As they walked down the hall towards the elevators with hurried steps, his mind was swirling. What could have happened in the Hall of Prophecy that the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies would need to talk to the Minister? They finally reached the elevator where Wells pushed the button for the ninth floor. The two stood in the small space in a nervous silence, one felt by the few other passengers. As more people got off after each stop, Kingsley had to reign in the curiosity and worry that had arisen at from Matthew's words.

Finally, they reached the floor of the Department of Mysteries and stepped off the iron lift. Matthew, not waiting for the Minister, strode down the stone hallway dimly lit with flickering torches and stopped in the rotating room. When the older wizard caught up to him, the room spun, torches and doors making alternating blurs of darkness and light. Finally, after a moment, they stopped. The Unspeakable used some sort of spell, a trade secret, to know which doors were which. Wells walked to a door on his left and opened it to a long chamber filled with opaque prophecy balls. Having dueled Death Eaters here two years prior, Kingsley was familiar with this hall and, followed Wells down the long space to the table at the end of the room, where the Keeper of Prophecy sat perusing a dusty prophecy ball. When they reached the table, Wells nodded to each of the older wizards and left the room.

The Keeper of Prophecy was an individual chosen by the previous Keeper to maintain all of the prophecies in the Hall. The current one was tall with leathery skin, a lean build, and a salt-and-pepper beard; looking like a dusty vulture in his black robe. He looked up over his beak-like nose at Kingsley and barked, "What took you so long?"

Kingsley was used to being addressed as such by this man and took it in stride. "I came as quickly as I could, Aetius. What do you need?"

The Keeper jumped up from his wooden chair and pointed at the prophecy ball on the table with one gnarled finger. "Do you know what this is?"

Kingsley shook his head. He knew that it was a prophecy ball of course, but he didn't know the importance of this particular one.

Aetius tapped it once. "Our monitoring spells alerted us to its awakening. It's one of our oldest prophecies, and is rare in that it had a time-release spell on it. This means that whatever prophecy this sphere contains, it's secret is so vital that that nobody could know of its existence until the day it opened. Also, that it would not be opened by the usual spell that is triggered by a certain amount of time passing, but by an ancient spell triggered by an event happening. This is very rare."

The Minister nodded. This must be a very important prophecy indeed. "When is it due to open?"

The Keeper crossed his arms and plopped back down into his chair. "In thirty seconds."

This statement startled Kingsley and he frowned. "I understand the rarity, Aetius, but why do you need me for this?"

Aetius said, "Because this prophecy is called the Prophecy of the Snake. Considering past events, I thought that you might like to be present."

This made sense. Snake could reference Voldemort, or anything involving Slytherin. It would be best for him to hear it and prepare for any threat to the newly freed wizarding world.

Just then, the glass orb shattered with the sound of a far-away bell, and the glowing mist arose from the shards. A sexless voice spoke into the chamber.

"With the secret lays the dormant crown,

Awakened only by ancient sound.

The heart of Hogwarts will be free again

At the cousin's mortal end.

The heir of the serpent is soon returning

To be joined by the ice-prince plagued by burning.

The dark flower takes on the reigns of death

Along with those of soulful breath.

Magic is the stake, heart, and key

To unlocking its own destiny.

Gold needs to trust its silver friends

For wizard-kind to escape its end."

When the voice finished the prophecy, which Aetius had been writing down, the mist vanished, and the Hall of Prophecy fell into heavy silence. Both wizards were contemplating what they had just heard, and the Minister was the first one to break the silence.

"How old did you say that this prophecy was?"

Aetius didn't even look up from his notes. "Around one thousand years. That would place it at the creation of Hogwarts, thereabouts."

Kingsley took in a deep breath and released it slowly. He ran over all of his first impressions of the words; as an ex-auror, he valued what his instincts could tell him. Mentions of Hogwarts, the reigns of death, unlocking the destiny of magic, the heir of the serpent, and escaping the end of wizard-kind, his mind was screaming at him what his first move should be. It was obvious.

"I need to tell Albus. This sounds like it revolves around Hogwarts, and whatever this 'heart' is."

The Keeper leaned back and ran a weathered hand over his face. "Yes, yes, tell him. I'll have my lot working on it as well, although Albus does need a warning. And we need to figure out what the event was that triggered its opening."

He leaned back in his chair and continued to think out loud. "Perhaps the 'awakening' was what triggered the prophecy. Or the freeing of the 'heart', or the 'end of the cousin' was the trigger, whatever that means Ah, I need charts, journals, ancient texts, records that we have of that time…"

As the other wizard rambled on about the resources that he needed, Kingsley clasped his hands behind his back and bowed slightly to the Keeper. "I must go to Hogwarts, Aetius. Owl me if anything comes up."

The bird-like man just fluttered his hands at the Minister and started scribbling frantically on parchment lying on the table. Kingsley smiled and left the room.

* * *

Deep in the mountains of Greece, a wizard trudged along an old stone path. The trees on either side of the path rustled in the night wind and fallen leaves swirled around his booted feet. The wizard's black hair flew out from under his hood and brushed over piercing silver eyes and pale skin drawn over sharp angular cheeks. He drew his bag closer to his body and strode through the wind towards the ruins that he saw just over the hill. After about twenty minutes, he finally arrived.

The white stone walls were greying with age and covered in a millennia's worth of moss and lichen. The wooden accents had long-since rotted away and the ruins stood like the broken ribs of the mountainside, protruding through the dark stone. The wizard walked in through a half-collapsed doorway and held out his wand, muttering a spell. After a moment, he started to wander through the large ruins, following the sense that his spell gave him. He walked about thirty feet before coming to a complete stop. He looked around in confusion. The object that he was searching for wasn't there.

He took one more step and the stone that he stood on rocked back and forth from the distribution of weight. The wizard froze, smiled, and stepped off the rock. He used another spell to lift the stone and underneath it was a square shape covered in an age's worth of dust and detritus. His smile widened further and he lifted the shape from its resting place. The growing storm's wind took the dust into the air and exposed the ancient leather-bound book.

"There you are, my dear…" he whispered.

* * *

"Ugh, I'm sick of this!"

Snape sighed in frustration and looked over at his rebellious charge. "You cannot go to dinner until you've created a proper shield."

Aru was sick of the training. Snape was teaching her an advanced form of legilimency to shield her magical aura. If she left Hogwarts as she was, her magic would shine like a beacon, drawing all manner of wizards to sheer power. She didn't really care at this moment. It had been too long since she'd been in dragon form, around 18 hours since the teachers took her out of the Chamber of Secrets. Since then, all she'd been doing is training and trying to strengthen her human form. She was still thin after the potions that she'd taken, with hair that reached mid-back (she had asked Pomfrey to cut it with a spell) and skin too pale for what she was supposed to be. She was so hungry, but Snape wouldn't let her go until she managed to completely shield herself for a moment. She dropped her head back to the ground and growled deep in her chest.

They were using one of the classrooms in the dungeons, with Snape sitting at the desk, going over his lessons for the coming year, while Aru laid on the stone floor in jeans and a black jumper, trying to cover up her aura. She still didn't understand it. So what if she had strong magic? If anyone came after her, she would just transform and eat them. Speaking of which, she was starving.

"Severus," she whined, "I'm hungry."

The response was the same. "You will not go to dinner until you create a proper shield."

Aru huffed. Never mind that if she really wanted to, she could leave the room and Snape wouldn't be able to stop her, but she did respect him. She wouldn't hurt him with her magic.

She closed her eyes and looked within to find it. This part had been explained to her over and over again. She could use magic whenever she wanted just by exerting her will, but she had to learn how to control it. It was hard to sense due to its overwhelming volume within her form, similar to attempting to focus on a blade of grass in a field whipped by wind. Also, since they were within Hogwarts, a place to which her magic was linked, it was hard for her to get a grasp on it without it snapping back to the walls that it was accustomed to clinging to. She tried for five more minutes to get her magic under control, but it slipped through her fingers like oil. She could see it, a purple haze that licked on the edge of her vision and seemed to tinge each stone in the school. But every time she tried to grasp it with her mind, it flowed around her.

Aru just manages to stifle the growl that started again in her chest. She may be in human form, but the dragon always lurked within. It was in her instincts, her moods, her actions, and—

The thought hit her like a train. She berated herself for being such an idiot. If she couldn't control her magic as a human, she would give it to the dragon to handle. She had never stopped mid-form, but she could try now without too much harm if anything went wrong. Aru started the transformation to dragon, but halted it as soon as it touched her mind. It was strange, like stopping at the height of a jump with gravity tugging inexorably down, but she could handle it. When she tried to reach for her power this time it felt like a rich silk, weighty and tangible. If it was visible, it would be a rich purple, similar to brocade velvet. Whatever the feeling was, she could harness it. Aru began to inhale deeply, imagining that her magic was the thick fabric of a skirt that she was trying to gather with her hands. It took her a while, and many slip-ups that had her clenching her teeth and pulling even harder, but she managed it. Her head felt full, almost unbearably. Still clenching her teeth tightly from the effort, she waved a hand in the air.

Snape looked up from his papers with surprise. "You have it now?"

She looked at him from the ground with half-slitted eyes and nodded. Her hold released the moment she stopped concentrating on it fully, but she had gotten it. He nodded to her and gathered his papers. "You may go to the kitchens and eat dinner."

She pushed off the ground and strode out the door without a second thought, already imagining how much food she would eat when she got there. The dragon within had been growling ever since she left breakfast that morning. Even filling her stomach to bursting point hardly sated her true nature, but this could easily be remedied with constant meals for a few days. Striding down the hall to the kitchen, Aru grinned at the thought that she alone could get away with regular extra meals. The house-elves knew who she was just by her magic and her name, and they treated her with love and respect for protecting—and being—their school.

When Aru reached the painting of the bowl of fruit, she told the door to open and stepped into the warm and bustling kitchen. None of this tickling fruit business; she was a dragon, after all. The house-elves, who were rushing about the room preparing the dinners for the people still in the school, paused in their work to squeak out a cheerful greeting to the girl and then returned to their culinary activities. Aru stepped over to a bench against a side wall and sat down. She might have been a dragon, and from a pureblood family, but she respected these cheerful little creatures and their devotion towards their work. After a few moments, one of the elves came over to her. "Is it time for Lady Dragon to be having dinner?"

This was an affectation that she had already tried to dispel earlier that day. She would have been perfectly fine being called "miss" but the elves delighted in calling her "Lady Dragon." It had something to do with her both belonging to an ancient noble family, and of having ancient creature heritage. Both having a clear impact on her perceived rank in magical hierarchy, the elves refused to call her anything else.

Aru nodded. "Just give me a platter of steaks and a bowl of salad, please."

The elf nodded. "Lady's food will be done in a few minutes."

As the little creature waddled away, Aru held up a hand and, with some concentration, created a little ball of fire in the center of her palm. It was something that she discovered when she was bored. It was so much prettier than the lumos that McGonagall kept harping on her to learn and could be used quickly in a fight. She tilted her hand until the flame balanced on the tip of one finger. It flickered gently, mirroring the motion of the larger hearth fire not thirty feet away.

Her mind wandered towards other kinds of fire, the kind that can't be controlled. She would never forget the searing pain of having to quench an unstoppable fire. During the battle of Hogwarts, one of the foolish Slytherins, one who followed her cousin Voldemort, used Fiendfyre inside the room of requirement. Thankfully that happened during one of her more lucid moments, so she was able to close off the room when the students made their way out, keeping the fire away from the rest of Hogwarts. With a quiet snarl she clenched her fist and extinguished her own little flame. She would never forget that betrayal, that one of her grandfather's own had hurt his school, and, by extension, her.

When the elf returned with a platter of steaks and a large bowl filled with green lettuce, Aru fought down her anger and thanked the little creature for the food. As she allowed her dragon side to enjoy ripping the meat off of the bones that the elf left in the steak, she thought to herself that she would never let anything that she cared about be betrayed in that way. What was hers was hers.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stormed into the Manor with a barely concealed snarl on his face. He threw off his black cloak to the house-elf standing by and swept upstairs to his room, ignoring the calls of his mother. They had just returned from the hearing and never had he been more furious with the unfairness of his life.

At the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, most of the death-eaters were still alive, with the exception of his aunt Bellatrix and the Carrows. They had all undergone trials and all were sentenced to life in Azkaban. With the dementors back under Ministry control (in spite of Dumbledore's protests) the prison was returned to its previous state. The Malfoys had had their trial last. There were hordes of reporters and protestors, claiming that while Narcissa had saved Harry Potter's life and was thus forgiven of any wrongdoing, Draco and Lucius were to be incarcerated. Draco's sentence for letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts through the Room of Requirement and the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, and Lucius's for repeated use of Unforgivables and other dark curses. Draco remembered standing for his crimes, and the terror that he would actually be sent to Azkaban.

The lights overhead were bright, as were the flashes of the reporters' cameras. The Malfoy family, under an auror escort, walked down the hallway towards the Wizengamot. Draco held his head high with a hint of a sneer firmly on his face. These people yelling at him had no idea what he had gone through during the war. They had no clue.

He and his father stood on either side of Narcissa as they walked through the doors into the chamber. Every seat was filled with someone gazing at them with either contempt or pity. Draco decided that he'd rather have the contempt. Pity was a useless feeling. It profited nobody. Rage was more profitable than pity, and there was plenty of that as well.

The beginning of the trial was swift, with witnesses and victims extolling the crimes of the Malfoy family. The three simply stood at the bottom of the room, silently appraising their accusers. Many wanted them to get sentenced to life in Azkaban, while some of the more fanatical called for the Kiss. Draco was just taking this all in when a new voice spoke up in the trial. Harry Potter spoke for them, nullifying the Life-Debt that he owed Narcissa even if he did not know it, and managed to save Lucius from the Kiss and Draco from Azkaban with just parole. The Malfoys were in shock, but were reluctantly thankful for his intervention.

Inwardly, Draco seethed as he paced in his bedroom. He hated being at the mercy of others. He was a Malfoy, a paragon of power and influence. He couldn't have the bloody Golden Boy save his skin. Granted, it was a debt repaid to his mother, but the rescue left a bad taste in his mouth. Draco stopped pacing and stared out his window into the sinking sun.

The fading light made him look like a Grecian statue, carved from white marble with white-gilt hair and silver eyes characteristic of his family. He had regained his health from his harrowing sixth year, and with it, his confidence. If only he had been stronger during Voldemort's regime. He could have saved his family.

His fists clenched as his mind plotted for ways to bring back the Malfoy reputation. Money, parties, politics, magic, subterfuge, these were the things that made his family great. He would just have to rely on some more than others. This would be difficult, but not entirely impossible, what with the resources at his disposal.

"First things first," he muttered, going to his writing-desk and drawing out a parchment and a quill. He wrote to his fellow Slytherins, inviting them to a post-war get-together. They had survived the cullings, as he called the trials in his mind, and they deserved some relaxation. He would also be able to strengthen the ever-present Slytherin loyalty. If they were to be returning to Hogwarts for the next year, he wanted his House to be able to survive. For the past years, Slytherin had been seen as the house of evil and deceit. Now that the war was over, and Voldemort finally dead, they should rebuild their reputation as the house of power and influence, aristocrats of the magical world. While their parents rotted in cells and gilded halls for their crimes and devotion to a mad-mad, the heirs would thrive in the post-war society and make the best of all opportunity while maintaining their own interests. "Look to your own before any other," was a common pure-blood saying and Draco had to agree with it. When nobody would choose to stand with them, they would have to stand together.

Twenty minutes later saw Draco watching his eagle owl wing across a setting sun, taking his letters to his friends to invite them to his house. He looked upon the sky streaked with fiery colors and thought back to his own trial through fire, another regrettable debt that he owed Potter. The roaring flames still haunted his sleep, causing him to jolt into fearful wakefulness at nights, sweat cooling on his skin and eyes wide in terror. He sometimes had dreams that he fell from the broom and into the fire, burning in guilt and pain. While searing flames plagued him at night, during the day he would be strong and powerful. He was a Malfoy. Such things were his birthright.


End file.
